


Topaz

by FixedWithBrokenParts



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Angst, Breakup Fic, M/M, Modern AU, This wasn't meant to be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixedWithBrokenParts/pseuds/FixedWithBrokenParts
Summary: “Thought you were done with me...”The other man’s wide shoulders just fell, giving Trevor a helpless pull, away from the bar. “Just get in the car, Trevor.”“No!” growled Trevor, finally tearing himself away. They stilled for a second, neither of them making a move to touch him again. “Don’t use that name. Do it like you did before. That’s what you wanted after all, right? Act like we never happened.”
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont
Comments: 18
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

The glass slammed, ringing out amongst the commotion with very little attention paid. Trevor tilted his head with the burn of the whiskey. It wasn’t the good stuff, nothing was good anymore. He hissed through his teeth, satisfying warmth in his stomach as lights shifted around him, The seedy lounge was usually mellow, but there was a live band drawing a crowd tonight. Left Trevor biting his tongue, hating the density between him and the back door. More people made stumbling into the alley harder. And with all things as they were, falling into the dark was all he wanted to do. So he motioned for the bartender to give him a refill, no polite words exchanged. He didn’t have the effort for polite anymore. He’d rather bite cheek and taste it bleed. The man behind the bar was familiar with Trevor, but it had been so long since they met like this. Since Trevor had been fucked up like this.

A familiar, dull fuzz swam behind his eyes, swirling around and maybe Trevor was swaying too—rhythm of his throbbing head beating with the surreal band. Music wasn't his scene, people weren’t either and the lack of both usually was what made this place so appealing when Trevor wanted to float in the stupor of a cheap and hard drink. His eyes lost focus on the glasses behind the tender, lit up a muted red—making the glasses blur. His breath was heavy, a fresh drink in front of him.

“The bottle,” demanded Trevor.

“Your tab—”

He hit his fist on the counter, “ _The bottle_ , Grant.” Trevor hung his head over his crossed arms, strung out hair falling over his eyes. Dry and foul tastes had already built up on his tongue, every swallow haunted by the last swig’s flavor. But flavor did very little for him again, he’d burn the taste buds off his tongue if medicine allowed. All he wanted was the numb in his bones. The hollow in his limbs that contradicted the heaviness in his stomach. He wanted his head to fill so high up with alcohol that all the memories died.

 _Memories of him_. 

Grant shoved a bottle of Trevor’s cheap whiskey toward him, the worst glare in his eye. “Thought you were getting better.” 

Oh Trevor Belmont knew the tone of disappointment well. It was a long lasting companion. The only thing that ever stuck around. Tears threatened to spring up the longer he stared at the unopened whiskey, “Yeah.” It felt like fire and tasted like death—but so familiar. An old friend come back to sooth him. “So did I.” 

The feeling in his fingers was dodgy now, and pressure continued to build behind his eyes. If there was a god, Trevor wondered if they were merciful enough to let the pressure kill him. It had tried to before. He wouldn’t put up a fight anymore, if he fell off this stool and never got back up that sounded just fine. There was no reason to fight anymore. All the clawing he had done to pull himself so far out of that hole did nothing but make the walls of his pit wider. Left his nails splintered to the quick, blood and dirt mixing on his fingertips. He was still at the bottom, and Trevor knew more than ever that it’s where he belonged. 

Bottom of the bottle, end of everyone’s rope. The glass pressed against his chapped lips in some twisted mirror of a kiss. Soothing him all the same as though it was a kiss from _him_ . Trevor rubbed his face, rubbing the memories from his eyes where they played like a drive in movie, projected behind his lids. _The hands, the sweat, laughter and sighs between twisted sheets._ Trevor wanted them gone. Burned away—the last year of his life wiped clean. He could pick up right here, doing the same thing he had done a year before. Drink until he dropped. 

The bottle was polishing off quick when hands touched his shoulder. Trevor didn’t even bother to check who it was, knocking them away and curling further into his slump on the counter. But they were insistent, turning Trevor to scold him. 

“You can’t be doing this again!” Sypha’s plea rang in his dizzy head. 

He registered it long enough to get angry and holler down the bar to Grant. “You’re a fucking snitch, Danasty!” But Sypha smacked him upside the head, getting him to pay attention to her again.

“Don’t you yell at him,” she spat, absolutely blazing in the lazy atmosphere of the lounge. “He did the right thing calling us.” 

Trevor’s lazy recognition of the word _us_ would get him in trouble later on in the night, but for now it flew over his radar. Signals all sorts of smeared in his head. He was usually so good at this, but the time away from the counters made him rusty. How exactly did one function this intoxicated again. Muscle memory long too strained to remember. Half of him was on autopilot by the time Sypha had shown up. 

She pulled him off his chair, pushing the bottle out of his way as he made a desperate swipe for it. “Hey, that’s my fucking drink woman.”

“Not anymore, tab's paid off,” she dragged him away, and through the too-many people. But the music had almost begun to call to him by that point. A distant sound that vibrated along with his shaking hands. It helped him float in his own head. Trevor continued to knock into people’s way, uncaring to their upset. They’d be mad at him, just like everyone else in the world. Scolding Trevor Belmont. You drank too much again, Trevor Belmont. You’re fucking up your life again, Trevor Belmont. 

How haven’t you fucking died, Trevor Belmont?

The fresh air wasn’t fresh, it smelled like shit. The back parking lot dimly lit by street lights pointing other directions. The last fading flickers of neon signs. Puddles of rain, or maybe spilt drinks, made the pavement sparkle in the night. Something about their reflections becoming hypnotic as Sypha shoved him further from the, now distant, music. His body wanted to fall, legs so tempted to crumble. It would be easier to lay down and listen to her yelling. She always got so sharp, providing him headaches that throbbed through his stupors. Unfortunately, he stayed upright. 

“You got me out, fucking happy now Sypha!” sneered the man, pushing her hands off him again. His mind wasn’t cognitive enough to really study her face. That might have always been the worse part, Sypha’s beautiful face got watered down when he drank and he couldn’t look into those thrilling eyes. Right now they were on fire and he could tell even through his dizziness. 

Her arms were crossed, blue jacket a Sypha Belnades staple. He liked that about her, the consistency. She was always bright. Always blue. Always there. Steady and strong Sypha. Safe and sound Sypha. But that didn’t mean he liked it when she played the rescuer. “How could you do this to us again?”

He was, once again, oblivious to the _us_ , as he threw his hands in the air and screamed to the sky, “I don’t know Sypha! Apparently, this is all I’m ever meant to do.” 

The woman’s head tilted, and he knew her eyes were watering because the neon light got more vivid in the reflection of unshed tears, “Why would you say that?” Her voice gave it away too, the worst sort of pain.

It caused his own voice to crack, eyes following her with the burning tears beginning to build, “That’s such a stupid question. No matter what I do,” Trevor shook his head, never afraid to tear up in front of his dear Sypha, “I always fuck it up. ‘m not good enough.” 

She argued in that teary voice of hers, Trevor turning his back so he didn’t have to see her when she pleaded. But the sight of a tall form striding over from a dark car made him erupt with a yell, clawing his hands through his hair. 

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” He marched the exact opposite direction of the approaching man. It was too much, everything he had drank threatened to choke him with the idea. With the memories. He wasn’t drunk enough, wasn’t numb enough, to handle this. Sypha pulled him away from the bar and she was strong but Trevor had always been stronger. Enough to wretch his arm away—but it was too late. _He_ was already close enough to grab Trevor by the shirt. 

“Hands to yourself, Belmont.” 

It was the fucking voice that was smooth enough to ease all the sandpaper in Trevor’s own throat. Melt him to bits and collapse just like his legs were begging to do. Instead it just made him want to put his hands on the man, knock him to the ground in a good ol’ classic bar fight. God he had missed those. But Trevor spit on his shoes as some sort of compromise.

“No hands,” he mocked, unable to free himself from Alucard’s hands. The yellow light above them made the man’s face look even more angular, wrinkled in anger. “The fuck are you doing here,” he bit. “Thought you were done with me...” 

The other man’s wide shoulders just fell, giving Trevor a helpless pull, away from the bar. “Just get in the car, Trevor.” 

“No!” growled Trevor, finally tearing himself away. They stilled for a second, neither of them making a move to touch him again. “Don’t use that name. Do it like you did _before_. That’s what you wanted after all, right? Act like we never happened.” 

He couldn’t tell you where Sypha was, tunnel vision zeroing in on the blond man who had a hesitant hand reached out towards Trevor. Head entirely filled now, no space left for extra thoughts. Just enough to spit one word after the next. The luxury leather of Alucard’s long trench coat caught the light just like his eyes. “How much have you had? You know that it’s dangerous now.”

Trevor sniffed, repulsed by the question, “Yeah I know, don’t worry ‘s not gonna kill me yet.” 

“Nothing kills you until it _does_ ,” there was Sypha. Close to his side. 

But he didn’t respond to her, still locked in a poisonous stare with the blond. “You don’t need to fucking take care of me anymore. I’m not your responsibility, never have been.” 

Alucard tensed, holding back his own anger, “I never thought of you as one—please just let us take you home.”

Trevor shook his head, the action alone making his vision bleed, and kicked a rock out in the dirty pavement. “You’re not taking me anywhere.” He started away again, feeling quite similar to the Leaning Tower of Piza. “I’ll walk home.” 

“That’s miles away!” Sypha tried to pull him again. And Alucard moved like a ghost, quickly in front of him to put a hand on Trevor’s chest—stopping him in his tracks. They were too close again. The way you get too close to a fire and all the oxygen is replaced by heat. He was suffocating just being a foot apart. But he remembered when this was far away, when simple inches apart drew them mad, and they fought tooth and nail to put as little space between them as possible. 

“Miles, and you are barely on your feet as is,” observed the well dressed man. He used his analytical tone, the short and precise one. It made Trevor shiver with another wave of hatred. Because Alucard always presented himself so perfectly. Expensive clothes and pristine hair. Posture that could make an old governess jealous. He always acted like he was impenetrable, some unnatural force that no one could break. But Trevor Belmont knew all the secrets of the perfect man. Knew every knick between the mortar that kept him together. He _knew_ that the face Alucard wore every day was a lie.

Except no, Trevor a month ago would know that.

Trevor now was looking at a stranger. A stranger who was blocking him from doing what he wanted and no one had ever thought him an easy to convince person. He pushed back the man, continuing to walk until it was Alucard’s hands holding the back of his jacket in a vice grip. “We’re not letting you walk. It’s barely ten minutes, let’s go!” 

For as slight as the man may seem, Alucard had never been weak. Neither had Trevor, who quickly ripped the arm away. It was too close. They were too close. Proximity wasn’t allowed anymore, the hand on his shoulder practically burning him. It was _wrong_. “Get your hands off me, fucking bastard.” 

God it felt good to scream, howl at the gods and all the stars above them—clouded by the pollution in the sky. Trevor could scream for hours and hours, and he'd still never have enough. In most scenarios he was a quiet person, not now. Not with Alucard a foot away, a _chasm_ away. He was staring at a limb that had got off and detached itself, acting as if they'd never been together. That's really what Alucard had taken that night, or gave back. He let Trevor have the emptiness he'd filled, a precious token. And now he was hollow again, trying to fill it up with proofs. 

Trevor rolled his head to the sky, somewhere up there his screams were still echoing. "Why are you here?" Not a scream but a cry, mostly asking Trevor himself. Why'd he come to rub salt in the wounds he'd obviously been trying to disinfect. Why was Alucard haunting him? 

"We just want you safe in bed, Trevor." The man spoke diplomatically, like he did with clients. 

"Will it be your bed?" That took the perfect man off guard, Trevor swaying, "I miss your bed. Mine's all empty."

In the glow of street lights, Alucard chewed at his lip. "Sypha, would it be alright if you gave us a minute?" 

The woman crinkled her face in worry, "Are you sure?" And the blond nodded, waving a hand her way. 

"Yes, go tell Grant we're sorry."

So she nodded, the heavy sound of the alley door locking shut. It left the chasm wider between them, more painful. Twelve inches was a damn fucking canyon, seperating oceans. Alucard was another continent, and Trevor was a shoreline miles away. Every nerve in his body told him to bite the bullet and _swim_. Chase after the man. He'd thought about it every moment the last month, what would happen if he just held on a little harder. Because now Alucard was gone, even a foot away. 

"Scared I was gonna slip one of your dark secrets?" Trevor slurred, upset he was staying in one place. He needed to move. 

Golden eyes rolled, leather scraped leather as Alucard crossed his arms, "Just get it out." His voice was so tired, "I know you want to, just promise me you'll let me take you home after." 

"After what?" Trevor spoke, repulsed. How was this so easy for him? Did all those months just disappear for Alucard? Wash away like a bad nightmare? Was it really so awful for him? "You think I'm gonna suddenly be fine? Like it wont matter anymore?"

Alucard didn't respond, Trevor continuing to ramble with smeared words. "Cause that's exactly what you want—what you've always wanted. You can bare being friends with the poor Belmont but god forbid you date him."

A diamond jaw locked, tendens jumping out in his long neck, "Is that what you really think?"

"Think!" hollered the shorter man, rage reaching a boil. He stepped up to Alucard's perfect fucking face, where no emotion dare reside. "Think? I fucking know it. What finally sent you over the edge, huh?" His voice was a growl, some rabid dog rooting around in the alley way, "Did I forget a famous author, huh? Put my shoes on your couch one too many times? Or was dating a high school graduate too embarrassing." 

He had gotten too close, Alucard snapping and gripping him tight by the lapels. Never underestimate the blond's thin frame, he'd made that mistake more than once. But now that left field strength was nothing new, only making the horrible constriction in his chest tighter. How dare he know such things about a man he'd never met. A man he'd never touched. Fury beamed in golden eyes, Alucard's jaw so tight it might have popped off. 

"Watch your fucking mouth, Belmont."

It was a warning but what was the man really going to do? Beat him up in some back alley, no that would be too low class for Alucard. The man would rather fight Trevor on a stage or something pompous like that, with fancy little swords as they rattled off Shakespearian prose.

"Why? Truth a little too bitter for you, princess?" spat Trevor, now criminally close. "How bout you just say it? Huh? _I'm beneath you._ " 

Alucard shoved him away like he burned, searing hotter than tears that finally broke their levy and raced down his cheek. One, two, three. They were fast and he was sure that they were fire. Because it was true. It had always been true. The moment they touched, Trevor knew he was undeserving. Caressing precious cargo. Knew that one day Alucard was going to wake up and smell the roses. Realize that Trevor wasn't worth the effort. He'd just been a toy to amuse a spoiled man, fix his broken legs and dump him off again. Someone he could lie to and pretend with. The muscles around his ribs continued to squeeze tighter, pushing every breath out of him. There isn't room in your chest when your organs go supernova. 

He didn't deny it either, didn't give Trevor another pretty lie. Supposed the man was done lying now. What was there left to gain? He’d already given the man everything he had. His hands fought their way through the tangled mess of his hair, biting now sharply. 

“‘M not good enough,” muttered he, voice clogged with tears. “I always knew it.” He’d tried to fake it. Put on the fancy suits and kept his back straight at dinners with clients. Used his ‘yes, ma’ams’ and ‘yes, sirs’ like a good little school boy. And they all saw through it as if he was glass, maybe Alucard couldn’t stand more disappointing looks from his father. Those faces that always screamed, _is this the best you can do?_ Make no mistake, Trevor knew when he was disliked, and Vlad bloody Tepes knew how to show it. Somehow the pain had twisted itself into a morbid laugh between sobs, “Knew you couldn’t love me...knew you were lying.” 

Through hot tears and heavy inebriation, Trevor couldn’t really make out the fine details of Alucard’s face. He didn’t see just how horrified the man was, standing like he had been shot. Still like a statue, or a painting. Yes, a painting—of an angel. Always an angel. He’d called the man that one too many times, under the spell of those amber eyes and marble face. Trevor couldn’t trace the line of Alucard’s own tear, trickling down at the very corner of his eye. 

“Get in the car,” whispered the angel in the night. 

Trevor rolled his eyes, begrudgingly complying as more of an act of self destruction. Stick himself with Alucard long enough to make it hurt more. The very source of his pain continuing to twist the knife between his ribs. Sypha rode in the front seat of the luxury car. Because everything was luxury for the tycoon’s son, from conditioner to socks, Alucard was an angel in Prada. Never let Sypha know, but Trevor didn’t even bother with a seat belt, opting to sprawl himself out in the backseat like everyone should when sitting in a vehicle more expensive than some educations. The car was in silence, even the redhead keeping to herself and only glancing his way every once and a while. Little miss chatty finally lost her voice. 

Sypha’s apartment was across from Trevor’s, she had stomped her way into his life after receiving every scrap of his mail that came through the building’s door. And then, she had never stomped out. He loved her, loved her more than he thought he could love anything in the entire world. She was a rock and his hero and everything someone could ever say. Sypha was perfect, a perfect friend and a perfect soul. There were times that he thought how much he didn’t deserve her either. 

“You sure you don’t want me to help him in?” the woman whispered at god know’s what time of night, his front door open where his two rescuers spoke. He stumbled up the stairs and tumbled in the door and now he was kicking his shoes off into fuck all’s corner. Trevor wasn’t _helpless_. He wasn’t a baby and he could handle his drinks like a proper fucking man. So he scoffed at her words, not bothering with the light in his apartment, “Get poisoning one fucking time…” 

“Poisoning?” hissed his friend from the light of the hallway, “Your liver nearly signed divorce papers with you, Belmont.” 

Trevor told her to fuck off, and while he did that a lot when he was sober, this may have sounded a lot harsher than his usual jabs. His compact apartment was just enough for him. Old shit sitting on shelves and older shit lying in closets. It wasn’t pretty and it certainly wasn’t _nice_. But it was his. 

The smooth baritone of Alucard’s voice floated into his apartment, some sick mockery of all the beautiful things he had once said in these walls. “I’ve got him—you need sleep. I’m always up around this time anyway.” 

Oh so he was going to have a baby sitter. Fuck that. If Alucard wasn’t in this apartment to cook him breakfast and fuck till their brains fell out than what was the point? So as a point of defiance, Trevor got himself into his own bed, clothes pitifully discarded. Half of him hoped the man tripped and fell on them. That was a funny thought, causing him to laugh into his pillow at the image. There was rummaging around his apartment, bastard making himself at home. How dare he know where everything was, how dare he _remember._

“Don’t you touch my fucking pop-tarts, asshole!” 

There was a particularly loud slam of a cabinet. 

It was hard to say when he really fell asleep. At one point he was awake and then he was suddenly _waking up_. Bile had risen in his throat, and he rushed out of bed on numb legs to the single bathroom in his home. Fluorescent lights burned as he promptly vomited any and all contents of his stomach. It hurt more than usual, and usual being the unusual as he had never really thrown up from his drinking. And he certainly shouldn’t have been throwing up from so little. Thoughts like those were for sober Trevor, awake Trevor. Thoughts like wondering who had put the glass of water on his nightstand next to little white pills—definitely not coherent enough for that. But he took them nonetheless, trusting the little Advil fairy. 

Dreams rarely came to him when he was this messed up, usually he’d blink and it would be morning. Poof—hours slept yet somehow no rest. But tonight—morning?—they did. Less of dreams and more of memories. 

He remembered the first time Alucard had slept in this bed with him. Remembered the powerful twist and curves of the man’s hidden muscles. Remembered how street lights from out the window glistened on bitten red lips. Of course in the dream there was an octopus in the corner. And then he dreamed of more cursed memories. A whole year of his life tainted and locked away in the back of his mind. It had all come spilling out after carefully being shoved to the side for the last month. He’d kept his cool and bit his tongue, but he had managed to hold off on the drinks. Of course that was until…

Until, well. He couldn't really remember. Something had set him off. He'd come back from work at the site—a constant reminder in itself. He was fucking _working_ for the Tepes family. And there had been a package waiting for him. That was it, the package. 

The package sitting on his coffe table right now—in the living room with a fucking blond in it right now, DAMMIT.

Trevor scrambled out of bed, wobbly legs powered only but pure fear. He stomped into the studio room, almost tripping over himself. Dull light of an early morning was begging to stream in. And a little brown box lay open in the sunlight. He snatched it up, barely even conscious of the man sitting on a thrifted dining chair. Because now his secret was safe, clutched in his hands. But his head was throbbing, even after the precious Advil he'd taken in the night. 

Oh for fucks sake, of course the bastard brought him Advil. Alucard was looking at him now, phone in hand and brow raised at the sudden appearance. Trevor had left the package open but the gift was still wrapped up so unless Alucard had _really_ gone snooping he wouldn't have seen anything. Which meant barging out of his room was a bit pointless. Well shit, he'd gone and fucked up that too. 

He swallowed a dry mouth, shaking the box like it meant nothing, "New bowl."

"You don't smoke," Alucard pointed quickly. Blankly. Like a robot spitting out facts from the internet. Programed specifically by father dearest. 

Trevor huffed, the man was right, "Well I do now. Why not? Your dad gonna drug test my crew?" That would end up terribly, Vlad would have to hire some new contractors. At least none of his men ever _showed up_ high. 

But Alucard continued to glare, "And you thought I was going to what? Throw it away?"

The Belmont shrugged, trying to shove down all the hurt simmering beneath his skin. It felt illegal, like Alucard being back in his apartment was breaking some cosmic law. He'd never really been in serious relationships—but they always ended the same way. Trevor would drink them away and then he'd never think about them again. But not Alucard. This man kept coming back. He was some sort of disease hiding in Trevor's body. Fucking herpes. This man was herpes. 

"The hell are you still here anyways," he grumbled at the box. 

Alucard cleared his throat, phone shutting off with a click. He'd removed his coat, the leather draped over a five dollar chair. The man was always a juxtaposition in Trevor's apartment—the mediocre and the masterpiece. "Wanted to make sure you woke up," and it was the fact that he used his private school voice that stung the most. As if the man didn't just sit here all night to make sure Trevor didn't choke on his own vomit. Because the act was too caring, and Alucard wasn't allowed to care about him anymore. He'd made quite a point of it when he'd ended things on that black suede couch Trevor would have been fine spending the rest of his life on. _Thought he’d be spending the rest of his life on_ , his brain corrected itself. 

It had been so quiet. A whisper, pale fingers brushing along the inside of Trevor’s wrist like he still cared. 

_“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”_

And now he was about to carefully walk the long way around the coffee table just to avoid Trevor on his way to the door.

“Did you sleep at all?” 

_Fuck, Trevor! Shut up!_

Alucard paused, coat flipped over his arm and one hand hovering over the doorhandle. “No,” answered the blond airily. “Not much of a sleeper.” 

And Trevor knew that, he could remember the endless days and nights the man had spent up at his computer working on his charity networks. Illuminated like a dead man by the blue of the laptop screen, phone tucked into his ear with his shoulder as he tried to whisper. All hushed in his foreign languages that Trevor could never understand. Those were beautiful memories then, and nightmarish ones now. But, proven by last night’s escapades, no amount of whiskey could replace them.

“You good to drive then?” he tried to ask in his most uninterested tone. Trevor was very good at uninterested with most people, just not Alucard. Never Alucard. Probably because the man could do uninterested better than any other person Trevor had ever encountered. If Alucard didn’t want it, emotion wouldn't dare touch his face. Touch his voice, touch his body. If he really wanted to, Alucard could choose to have no emotions at all. 

See Trevor needed beer for that.

“I’ll be fine, Belmont.” 

And there it was, a nail in the coffin he supposed. Before they’d been together, that was all Alucard had ever called him by. Mr. Belmont at first but the longer they had gotten under each other’s skins at work it evolved to just Belmont plain and simple. And he’d hiss Tepes right back at him. And that was their little game. Their cat and mouse. Was it flirting or was it fighting? Who could say. When Trevor threatened to show the private school prodigy what real work was like it had been a dare. And then suddenly, Trevor had the rug ripped right from beneath his feet. Because suddenly it wasn’t ever fighting anymore. And Alucard had taken to using his first name instead. 

There wasn’t a drug good enough to make him feel the way Alucard’s voice ever had. 

Trevor huffed, fiddling around with the box in his hand, he wasn't going to be the one to say goodbye. The blond had come uninvited to ruin his pity party last night, that didn’t warrant a formal farewell. They both knew well enough that Trevor was happy to see him go. 

“Take care of yourself,” it was more of a warning than a genuine worry as Alucard closed the door behind him.

It made Trevor huff to himself, something vile for sure, sitting down on his aged sofa. There was tissue paper covering up the logo of the actual box, he’d asked for discreet packaging on purpose, for a situation not quite like this. Alucard liked to snoop, and on more than one occasion had gotten Trevor’s mail for him, curiously flipping through the envelopes like they were library books. He’d never opened them of course because Trevor would have fought the man on it, no matter how rose tinted his glasses were for Alucard. It was scientific curiosity to the blond. Gathering all these little details about Trevor like he had been starting a collection. It’s why he knew exactly where the pop-tarts were even after a month of absence. 

Trevor decided to bite the bullet, unwrapping the soft matte box with the fancy logo burnished into the top. It had been quite the gift, and somehow over the last few weeks it had completely slipped Trevor’s mind that something was on its way to his doorstep. He stared at the box for a bit, half expecting some demon to pop out of it and snatch him. But no, it relaxed there on his coffee table—his very own Pandora’s Box. 

And when he removed the lid, two topaz cuff links glittered in that same sun. Ringed in platinum and polished to perfection, the honey colored gems took whatever breath he had in his lungs and threw it out of the local atmosphere. It had been exactly what he wanted. Exactly what Alucard would have liked. For all the man’s fancy galas and charity balls but more specifically for the opening of the Farenheit Center, Alucard’s passion project. The building which Trevor had been head contractor for over the last year. It was going to be the best night of their lives, Alucard had promised. Both their crowning career achievements. 

And now it would just be empty, filled with reporters and investors and yet empty. He couldn't help but throw his head in his hands and crumble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I'm really tempted to make some sequels to this, I definitely have them planned out but I'm not sure if I really want to go about them yet. But for right now, I really loved this angst fest of a work and I hope you did as well <3


	2. Chapter 2

There's a route you can take through the city that Trevor liked to use on the bad days. It was dark, it was nice, and it was relatively quiet which made the ordeal of a hangover a more friendly experience. 

Hands stuffed in pockets as he approached the sleeping construction site, morning just beginning to break and he thanked the world that jackhammers weren't going off just yet. His brain just a bit pinched from the previous evening and all it's escapades. What were those escapades? Eh, who cares, he had gotten home in one piece so it couldn't have been too much fun.

He unlocked the chains keeping the wire gate closed, heavy rattle echoing with a city just beginning to get into motion. His trailer had another heavy lock, the metal just a tad cold from lack of sun. Papers were scattered, scattered in a very organized way but still scattered. He hung the old jacket he'd been trudging around for years up on it's familiar hook, squinting at the calendar on the wall when he noticed a bit of scribble. 

_"Tepes visit--11:30"_

"Fuck," Trevor growled to the calendar, how dare it have schedules. He ran a hand through greasy hair he was lucky would get covered by a hard hat soon. He'd only met the man once or twice, usually speaking with his architect instead of the tycoon. He wasn't quite sure if they were fond of each other. Well, actually, he was very sure they weren't. The architect having to play mediator most times. 

So the day blistered on, his crew stumbling in from probably equal or worse nights than his with a grumbling chorus of _"Mornin', boss."_

That had always made Trevor laugh, surprised he had confused his way this high up the ladder. Realistically it was his family name that did it, Belmont Industrial a long reigning name in the blue collar world. Course until the fire, the bankruptcy, and the orphaning. Trevor scratched his chin, observing some cement pouring as his mind wandered. That was never a good sign. Briefly thinking about the flask he kept at his desk for days like this. 

"Mr. Belmont!" 

_Fuck_ , Trevor turned to see a silver man approach, _no flask for me_. Hector was in the fancy suites Trevor usually saw him in, dark blue and a red tie--the hard hat offering a hilarious contrast. He walked as evenly as he could in dress shoes over gravel, rolled papers in hand as usual. Behind him followed a behemoth of a man.

Vlad fucking Tepes, with his snotty fucking mustache and weird fucking eyebrows. He was tall, with shoulders laying straight as support beams, not a crease in his perfect black suit and not a bead of sweat on a pale forehead. He was older, but you could only really tell from his posture and speech, never able to pinpoint his true age--only that he had seen the world go by. He had that kinda twinkle in heavy russet eyes, that he always knew more than you. 

Trevor hated it, of course.

"Pleased to see you well, Mr. Belmont," Hector nodded and Trevor nodded back.

"Yeah uh, same for you I guess." He held his hand out to shake with the architect and then held it towards Tepes, "Sir."

The taller man just looked at the outstretched hand blankly, and with a twitch if his mustache just huffed, "Good day, Mr. Belmont. I've heard progress has been smooth."

 _Course progress has been fucking smooth, I'm in charge._ Trevor bit his cheek, "We've been a day ahead of schedule for the past week or so, let me show you the frames."

But before Trevor could stomp further into his territory Tepes stopped him, "Actually I have a meeting fairly soon, my son is arriving to oversee these next portions of construction." Vlad paused with a demon's smile, "Of course, if that is alright with you."

Trevors hands clenched around nothing, jaw locked, "We've been _ahead_ of schedule. That a problem for you, _sir?"_ He really could've ended on a more polite tone but Trevor knew goddamn well when he was doing a good job and he had no reason to be saddled with a fucking babysitter. 

The old man seemed to give the most genuine fake smile, "Not at all, Belmont." He hated the way the billionaire dare pronounce his name, as if he knew the pain behind his lineage. "You see, a few more priority projects for the company have come up so the intentions for the building have shifted."

Well that just made Trevor confused, and a little pissed off, "Well whats its gonna be now then?"

Hector piped up, "A charity center, for medical research around the globe."

Had Trevor been drinking coffee it would have been spit out. Dracul Inc. doing charity work? What has the world come to. It was the Belmont's turn to twitch, "How very...humanitarian." Dracul was malicious, shady _at best._ They were not renown for their philanthropy, and in fact had some pretty stained history in the past for their mafia-esque behavior. So this was a surprise nonetheless.

Hector handed the blueprint rolls to Trevor politely, "Here are the new plans. His son and I drafted them ourselves. He's going to be taking over from here now that some different projects have come up."

Trevor hesitated to snatch the plans like he had intended. If this set back his fucking schedule he was going to be pissed. He wouldn't even be working for Tepes if the money hadn't been too sweet to turn down. "Son's a fucking architect, is he?"

It came out a bit more harsh than he had intended, Hector's pale eyes going wide and flicking to his boss in anticipation. But the older man remained stoic, if not a little smug. "He's studied and worked on a few projects before. It's his center, so I trust he won't make it structurally unsound--if that's what worried you."

The tycoon however received a phone call before Trevor damn near threw himself into a debate, leaving him to crumple the blueprints in his fist. Tepes' phone shut off with a click, "We really must be on our way, Adrian will be over later today to meet with you officially. Good day, Belmont."

Trevor had been this close to kicking up dust on their perfect suits as they walked away, wondering if dry-cleaning would come out of his paycheck. He did decide to rage against a poor 2×4 that had been lying around, screaming at the top of his lungs in frustration. Not that it could be heard over the construction, but a few of the crew did notice, and avoid him after that.

The flask in his desk was promptly poured into a coffee he didn't think he was going to need today, throwing in some cream from his minifridge to hide the smell. The minifridge also took a brunt of his anger. This was going to be a set back, and a possible rework of everything they had done. Trevor sneered over the rim of his travel thermos with the memory of Vlad Tepes' face so blank with the news. At least he wasn't _losing_ the job, but it certainly didn't help his already permanent distaste for the Dracul Inc.

The crew was probably wondering what their boss was doing holed up in his trailer all day, but they were smart. Ish. They could get on without him for a bit. He needed to fume. The blueprints unrolled on his messy desk, displaying a much shorter, much more artful building than the one before. It wasn't bad, it didn't seem outrageous, but Trevor was itching to toss it out anyway when a light knock came from his trailer door. 

"'S open!" Trevor muttered into his coffee, eyes raking over blue.

He barely looked up to see who walked, fully expecting it to be Fulmer again, asking for another day off the way he always did. So the clean voice that rang out in the trailer startled him from his concentration.

Yep, that was certainly Vlad's son. He had the height to prove it. Pale too, nearly brighter than the boring beige of the trailer walls. Platinum hair was braided back to a long plait down a tailored suit, it flung as the man looked around the trailer suspiciously. Definitely his son, with that shitty upturn of his straight nose. Hands clasped behind his back in the same goddamn way. Precious curls framing a frighteningly angular face and at least this one didn’t have a mustache. 

Trevor would have thought him attractive if he didn’t stand exactly like his father. 

“Mr. Belmont?” accented voice laced clearly, the sharpest thing in the room. Trevor bit the bullet and cleared his throat, shaking the younger Tepes’ hand across the desk. 

“That’ll be me, you can have a seat if you want.” 

And so the blonde man did, spider legs sprawled neatly in front of him, “It’s good to meet you, I presume my father has told you about the administrative shift for this project.” 

Even to his fancy fucking words, it made the hairs on Trevor’s neck rise, “Yeah, said you were taking over as manager and architect.” 

“I am.” 

Trevor huffed, arms crossed as he leant back in his squeaky chair, “See I was under the impression you were some forgeign hospital something or other, _not_ an architect.” 

Something must have pinched in the man because he threw back a tense smile, “A...varied education was favored by my parents.” He spoke slowly, carefully, with pearly white teeth that nearly caught the afternoon sun. Perfect fucking dental hygene too. Had this kid ever dealt with hardship, probably not and he probably never will. “And I’m a medical networking executive for UN hospitals,” he paused with a smile, “Mr. Belmont.” 

Oh this was just perfect. How the hell was Trevor supposed to continue this job without punching this giraffe of a man in the annoying porcelain of his face. He rectified it with a long swig of his _very_ irish coffee, “Congratulations, this is a job site and you’re gonna wear a hard hat.” 

Expecting a bit of repulsion, the man only continued his overly-polite smile, “That’s not an issue Mr. Belmont.” 

It made his lip curl. The blonde cleared his throat, what had Tepes called him earlier? Andy? Adrian? Something like that, “Well, we’re gonna have to go over the reality of these blueprints, Mr, uh, Tepes. The entire foundation has been poured and finished so we're gonna be working with a different base than what you drew up.”

“You can call me Alucard, Mr. Tepes is my father.” _Alucard_ scooted closer to the desk to peer at the blueprints on the table, “What’s the biggest discrepancy?” 

Trevor nearly laughed, “Well first off we’ve got a rectangular foundation out there and this is some pentagon bullshit. Second, steel beams are already in, this lobby is going to have to change.” 

Alucard clenched his jaw, probably at Trevor’s attitude but if this man couldn’t deal with a bit of snip then he might as well fire Trevor. In fact that was beginning to look like a wonderful idea, there was a new supercenter job starting up across town. “Could you take me out and show me, just so I have a better idea of what we’re working with.” 

Rolling his eyes, Trevor donned a hard hat, throwing one to the prince across him and set out to the rest of the site. His crew squinted at the man, he really was a frail looking guy even with his dad’s shoulders. They seemed as displeased as Trevor was. Alucard’s eyes raked over the site, seeming to collect whatever information the man deemed important.  
“They continue with the original plans despite the new draft?” 

Trevor grumbled, leading him to where the lobby would be standing, “Frankly I didn’t believe it at first so forgive me for not sending men home when they need a paycheck.” The Belmont pointed to a rough looking guy across some saws, “‘Cept Fulmer. Fulmer doesn’t deserve shit.” 

Alucard blinked up at the raw structure they stood in, embracing his surroundings. It smelled like sawdust and cement mix, dust caught in a cycle of settling and unsettling. It was a bright day, making Trevor squint heavily, that or his hangover had just been worse than he thought. And with that notion another gulp of his coffee was in order. 

“I hate my father’s buildings.” 

This time he did have coffee to spit out, forcing Trevor to wipe up the drink from his chin after his surprise. “Tell us how you really feel, Goldilocks.” 

The taller man rolled his eyes, scrutinizing the construction, “They’re very cold. He always makes them dark. He’s got astigmatism, can’t stand the sun for long. That and he’s just old.”

Trevor really didn’t feel like bonding over his dislike for this guy’s father at, what was it? One in the afternoon. So he just offered a shrug to the younger Tepes. 

“Do you mind if I just see what’s already been done and how I can work from there?”

Trevor shrugged again, feeling a little less grouchy after a good amount of his coffee, “Fucking whatever, I’m gonna be in my office.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Belmont.” 

He was already turned around so he just threw a hand up, “Eh.” 

Every-other-fucking-day Alucard was at the site. Breathing down Trevor’s neck, getting under his skin. They argued non stop over the little changes the blond wanted to make. 

_“We’ve already fucking built it Tepes! You want me to tear it down?”_

Or the occasional raise of Alucard's voice whenever Trevor threw some comment out there that rubbed him the wrong way.

_“Grow up, Belmont you’re just being rude.”_

It caused many a more irish coffees to be made.

One particular day Alucard nearly kicked the trailer door down, causing the precious coffee to nearly spill.

“You denied my request for Romanian granite?” Fire was blazing in amber eyes, Alucard using his height to full advantage in the small trailer. 

Trevor couldn’t help but punch the desk, “Where the fuck are you gonna get Romanian grantite on this schedule!” 

Alucard pointed a piano finger at the Belmont, hissing. “Oh I can find Romanian granite, Belmont.” The door slammed so hard it opened back up, “Mark my words!” 

Sure enough he did happen to find a supplier that could install it on time, refusing to have Trevor ever hear the end of it. It was _romanian granite this_ and _romanian granite that,_ and the Belmont was two seconds from throwing down right on that newly installed granite-- hopefully causing a few cracks in it with the bastard's thick skull. 

But Trevor hated it the most when Alucard was there for no goddamn reason. Nothing to oversee, nothing to decide on. Just to piss Trevor off because apparently it was the man’s favorite pastime. “Looking a little grim today Belmont, long night?” 

The bastard had a key to the office, and Trevor just happened to be late that day. Walking in to see the blond sprawled behind his desk was not the best way to wake up. “Get out of my fucking chair, goldilocks.”

Alucard did, _tsking_ while he did so, “Goldilocks? You must really be hungover for that to be what you come up with.” 

Trevor glared through his brows, setting his shit on his desk for the day and starting a pot of nice, _non-alcoholic,_ coffee. “The hell are you here anyway, its just fucking beams.” 

“There are a lot of resources going into this project,” shrugged the over dressed man, “I want to make sure it's going right.”

His grip nearly shattered his mug handle at the comment. Would it really be murder if it was justified by the dead man being a prick? No it wouldn't, it would be community service. “Don’t fucking trust me then do it yourself, asshole.” 

“At least then it would actually look good.” 

Oh and there was the final straw for Trevor, who slammed the mug on his makeshift counter. The action so loud even Alucard failed to comment for once. The Belmont steeled himself before spinning around, “What a great fucking idea.” A blond brow arched. “How about, you build your own fucking center huh? So smart, everything must be so fucking easy for you, construction can’t be all that different.” 

The blond had narrowed his eyes into slits, delicate hands rippling with veins as he gripped the armrest of his chair. Such a quiet show of anger. Yeah Trevor was going to enjoy this. 

“Tomorrow morning I’m calling you in for a shift, 8 a.m. sharp. You’re going to help build this fucking project of yours with your bare hands and _then_ maybe I’ll take your suggestions a little more seriously.”

Alucard sneered, “You don’t think I will.” 

“Oh I think you will,” Trevor bit back, the man was snide enough to do it. “I do think it’ll send you home screaming back to Daddy’s money.” 

The blond gave a passive laugh, “This is a bet I’m willing to gamble. So I make it through a day, what then? You finally grow up?” 

Trevor curled his lip, “You win, I’ll buy you a drink. A real fucking drink.” Trevor threw on his reflective vest, “None of that forign bullshit you must like.” The Belmont paused, “Hell are you even old enough to drink?” 

Alucard rolled amber eyes like his life depended on it, collecting his own items from the desk, “I’m nearly thirty, Belmont, try to reign in the stupidity on the job.” Wallet and car keys in hand, Trevor was half surprised the man even drove himself, “I make it through the day you buy me a drink, _and_ you quit acting like a child.”

“And when you wont make it?” Trevor laughed as he held open the door for the man to leave.” 

Alucard hovered in the doorway, inches taller than Trevor and thin as a rail. His hair wasn’t braided today, falling softly around his face with the stubborn curls near his temples even his braids couldn’t tame. Morning sun was just nearly falling along pale cheeks, sharpening the shadows of his face. Something swam in curious eyes that made Trevor blink back with a bit of confusion. 

“ _If_ I can’t do it, then I’ll buy you a drink, Trevor.” 

It was the first time he’d heard Alucard use his full name, a fact it wasn’t aware of until this very second when it fell from unchapped lips. 

Maybe it was the way he stood purposefully, spoke purposefully, seemed to look at Trevor _purposefully_ that the words caught his attention so well. And by hell did he not look like his father right then.

Trevor followed his routine the next day, nearly forgetting about the bet they had made, he unlocked the site and unlocked his trailer. He made some coffee to dull the hangover--all was going as any normal morning does until his clock struck 8.

“Where do you want me today?” 

Alucard was standing outside his trailer, lent up against the cool metal in the morning light. It surprised Trevor, as he closed the door, seeing the lean figure with the casual voice. It was the first time he’d ever seen the man in blue jeans, albeit designer looking ones. He had a clean and pressed button up with what was most likely another designer white t-shirt beneath it. It almost made the Belmont laugh, at least the bastard had tried. 

Trevor scratched his stubble, wishing he was a little more awake for the question. His brain really hadn’t extended as far as actually finding some work for the prince to do. “Uh…we’ll start you with some easy stuff.” Alucard trailed after him, boots more expensive than Trevor’s rent crunching along the gravel. 

“Fulmer, Alvarez, got a new guy to help out with some heavy lifting.” 

The two men squinted at Alucard, possibly recognizing him and possibly deciding whether or not their boss was joking with them. Alvarez in particular curled his lip, “Uhm. _Heavy_ lifting?” 

Trevor clapped Alucard roughly, sending him towards the saw station, “That’s right. He’s new so you might have to show him the ropes.” 

Alucard showed no sign of disagreeing or acting in any way than polite, which was weird in itself for the site. He held his hand out to the men, “Adrian, it’s nice to meet you.” 

Alverz took his hand, throwing a look at the Belmont with eyes of panicked fear. Trevor just smiled and left them to their own devices, because this was about to be a very fun day. 

Wilson came up to him during first-shift lunch break, where Trevor was very happily munching on a cheap gas station sandwich with some other crew members, “Who the hell did you assign to saws, boss?” 

The question was more angry than curious, making Trevor smile through his sandwich, “New guy, trying to teach him a few things. How bad is he fucking up?” 

Wilson crossed his arms, squinting in the afternoon heat, “It's not that, he’s just fuckng weird. Good with numbers I guess.” 

His disappointment was visible, the man had already made it longer than Trevor had initially expected. “Well shit.”

Another of his guys coughed, “Uh. Is that a bad thing, sir?” 

The head contractor cursed, finishing his sandwich in one bite to hunt down the blond, “Yeah, I’m losing a bet.” 

He found Alucard helping put up some wall frames for what would eventually be the first floor bathrooms, working still with Alverez and one of Trevor’s best, Nguyen. They seemed to be getting along just fine, even if Alucard stood out with his seamless clothes. Tied up hair was falling out of his hat, and sticking to a thin layer of sweat on the man’s face. 

“Oi,” Trevor called, voice echoing in the frame of the building, “you aren’t holding that drill correctly.”

Alucard narrowed his eyes, face a little flush from moving around the wooden beams, “Seems to be working.” 

Alvarez snickered, and promptly stopped snickering as soon as he caught his boss’s eye. Nguyen piped up from where he was holding a beam in place, “He’s doing pretty good for his first day sir.”

Trevor hudded, arms crossed, “Yeah? I’ve been getting mixed reviews.” 

Screws firmly in place, Alucard finally let out a laugh, “You’re just upset because I’m doing better than you thought.” Alvarez behind him was overjoyed with the banter, listening with entertainment.

“Oh suck my dick, Alucard, I gave you the easy shit.” The conversation was normal between him and the Tepes, but certainly out of place with his crew members. It left Alucard unphased, chucking to himself as he took a swing from a glass waterbottle.

“As if you’d ever deserve it, Belmont.” 

This time Alverez didn’t hold back his laugh, even a chuckling Nguyen had to smack him to make the man stop. Trevor was no stranger to insults with Alucard, but this was in front of his men. Well. Technically he had started it, but now the blond was taking it to a different level. He truly held back an even worse response, but instead of ruining himself in his crew’s eyes, he chuffed away.

“Just don’t fucking break anything, Goldilocks.” 

He was finishing up his day in the trailer, gathering as much information about Alucard’s performance without having to speak to him again. The only other time he saw him a few more jabs had been thrown, and to save face Trevor had to take the high road again which left a smug fucking look on the bastard’s face. Second shift was heading home, and he hadn’t even thought about a time that Alucard would be leaving as he wasn’t really a part of any crew. 

A few of his men came in to work out a schedule before they left, but Alucard’s knock was familiar now. Trevor looked up to see the lanky man hanging quietly in the door, hard hat and gloves in hand. The orange vest hung pathetically on his frame. “May I come in?”

Trevor sneered, violently erasing whatever he had just written as some sort of stress relief, “Yeah whatever.” 

The hat and belt was set before him on his desk gently, confusing the angry Trevor as he looked up at what he was pretty sure was a giraffe hybrid. The Belmont lent back in his chair with a tell-tale squeak, arms crossed to listen to whatever the bastard had to say. 

He began with clearing his throat, eyes level, “You are very good at what you do, Belmont.”

Well that definitely not what he was expecting. Trevor's eyes narrowed as the blond continued. 

“Your crew hold a great deal of respect for you. A respect, I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised by.” Alucard punctuated by knocking a knuckle absently against the hard hat, “I will also admit, that I was a bit ignorant in my behavior to this job. And _a bit_ , to you.” 

That threw a spark of satisfaction Trevor’s way, now grinning just a bit smugly. “See how far flattery can get you? Should do it more often,” grumbled the brunet. 

Alucard rolled his eyes, “How about I buy you that drink instead.” 

And if that didn’t get his ass up, about nothing would. He threw his keys in his wallet and his jacket over his shoulders, “Oh you’re buying much more than one drink, princess.” He poked the man in his chest, “And you're driving.” 

Alucard was a good driver, very patient and quiet. His sleek, black, Cadillac probably also had something to do with the smooth ride. He didn’t have any music playing, which confused Trevor who sat there in silence, unless he was giving directions. “Take a right on Lexington,” and Alucard would calmly take a right. 

Trevor couldn’t stand the silence, anymore than he could stand wearing dusty clothes in a car so expensive. He made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, “You know I didn’t expect you to drive.”

Alucard offered a level chuckle, eyes fully on the road, “You know I expected a head contractor to have a car.” 

“It’s not fair from my apartment, no use really.” 

The blond hummed, “And when you get a job that is far?”

“Then I might get a fucking car. I like walking. Turn left up here, there’s parking in the back.” 

“Evenin’ Trevor, want the usual?” Grant smiled in his gentlemanly way, the way bartenders seemed to always do. Trevor saddled right up to the rough oak bar stool he had unofficially claimed as his own the past few months.

"You know me best, gimme what you think I'd like," he waved a hand at the younger man. He was a handsome bartender, as all bartenders seem to be. The kind of pretty Trevor seemed to like, and he'd considered making a move early on. But he'd been on the other side of the bar once or twice and knew creeps liked to hang on to every word you'd say like they loved you. Try and ask if you were free nearly every night. Objectification wasn't anything new to Trevor, and he'd rather Grant not hate him.

Alucard took the seat next to him, back straight, and nearly glowing in the dark bar. "And for you, sir?" Grant asked politely.

The blond just shook his head with a smile, "No thank you, I'll be driving." Grant nodded at that, but Trevor revolted.

"Hold up, you can't just sit sober, not allowed. You'll be fired, get 'im a vodka something," the Belmont waved his hand around for emphasis. Grant looked at him with that _are you sure_ face the bartender was good at. 

Alucard cleared his throat, glaring at Trevor, "Gin, top shelf, neat. Thank you." 

Trevor crossed his arms, observing him. Was this guy really almost thirty? How? His skin was unmarred, hair luscious, and eyes clear. God what did Trevor look like then? "Gin?"

The blond nodded, loveningly sipping the drink that was just handed to him, "And that can only be cheap whiskey I presume?"

Trevor knocked his glass against Alucard's unceremoniously, "Bet your ass it is!"

"So you just walked home?" sputtered an Alucard a few drinks in. 

Trevor, redfaced and chest warm laughed, hitting the table as he did so, "I did, I really fucking did!"

The thin man at his side shook his head, sipping on his glass with horror, a humour glinting in amber eyes. Trevor continued to chuckle into his whiskey until it dried up, and he shook the glass towards Grant. 

"So, Goldilocks, whats the craziest story you got up your sleeve?" Trevor paused, holding his hand up to keep Alucard from talking, "No wait, I've got it. You went to some ridiculous foreign school and dealt hard drugs, bet your tagged by Interpol." Trevor dropped his voice, "Is it dangerous to be seen with you?"

The longer they stayed there the louder Alucard's eyerolls became, this one thundering in as he muttered into his gin, "I have no fucking idea what your perception of me seems to be, Belmont."

" _Trevor."_

"Trevor," repeated the blond without skipping a beat, the man had been correcting him all night. "And if it pleases you, yes I went to a foreign school. No I didn't deal drugs, and _I_ should be more embarrassed being seen with you."

Trevor scoffed, face dropping in faux offense, "You wound me, Goldilocks. How shall I ever recover?" His voice was a little loud and the impression a little dramatic, but against most peoples' idea of him--Trevor Belmont was as dramatic as they come. It earned him another eye roll. 

"Its not you, cretin," hissed Alucard playfully. "My father would claim this is improper business." 

That earned a grin from the Belmont, and he leaned in a bit closer, _"Improper business?_ Please, I could show you real improper business." The sentenced punctuated with a wink. 

Alucard buried his face in his drink and if Trevor was coherent enough he may have noticed the blond man blushing away from Trevor. "I assure you my father knows of that too well--he married his student."

"What!" exclaimed the Belmont, a little too loudly. It earned him a shushing from both Alucard and Grant. He winced, "Sorry, but fucking _what?"_

Alucard's hand had somehow found Trevor's arm during the shushing, and the blond had yet to pull it away while they talked, "I know, I know. It sounds ridiculous."

"Didn't even know he taught."

Alucard nodded in agreement, "He doesn't, hasn't used his medical license since he became CEO, but she sought him out personally--he was the best surgeon in the country at the time."

Trevor's head swam, the story sounding like it was coming far into the past, and Alucard telling it with an endearing lilt that had no malice. The Belmont narrowed his eyes, "Was she your...mother?"

Alucard nodded, polishing off another glass of gin, "She was fantastic, my father was speechless for years after meeting her practically."

Trevor huffed, "That must have been wonderful." Alucard's hand still rested on his arm, right on the sleeve as if to keep skin from touching. Oh because then it might be dangerous. Then things might actually get improper. 

But he squeezed the arm with a chuckle, Alucard's behavior much more relaxed with a few drinks in him, "She's who the building's named after."

And suddenly the air got cold, and Trevor's shoulders slumped. You don't name buildings after breathing people, he'd worked in the business long enough to know that. But Alucard's face seemed normal, gentler even. Yet swimming in lovely amber eyes, something. Something Trevor knew. 

"She's gone," he didn't say as a question. He knew that look, he'd worn that look when he thought about his parents. Alucard gave a pursed smile in response, eyes on his empty glass. "How long?" 

"I was twenty. There was a, uhm, domestic terrorist attack. In Romania. Her hospital was targeted. She'd been working while she visited family." 

The bar continued around them all the same but their little bubble had gone still. Gone quiet. Tears threatened to fall from golden eyes, down a face that still didn't betray his sadness. Trevor found himself putting his own hand on Alucard's arm, holding tight. He knew this pain, he knew it so well. Long held grief that no matter how far away it was, it will always hurt. 

"My family was killed." Alucard blinked up, brows pressed in worry. Trevor shook his head, "I was twelve or so, I'd been out to the park with my friend. But...but everyone was in the house when it caught fire."

"Trevor, I'm so sorry. That's awful." And his voice was sorry, Alucard was sorry. And watching such genuine emotion cross a typically stoic face made his own gut wretch. He'd been trying to get that face to do _something_ for weeks and when it finally did, it was sadness. And he hated that. He wanted to wipe it clean, bring back the well-known sneers. That he could handle, not sympathy. 

"'S alright. Long time ago." Trevor shook his head and rose his glass towards Alucard, "To the Fahrenheit Center."

Beautiful and tragic, the blond clinked his empty glass with Trevor's, "To the Fahrenheit Center."

Not that there was much left in the glass, but Trevor downed it with a familiar burn in the back of his throat, Alucard shaking his head, "Aren't bars meant to cut you off at some point?"

Trevor shook his head, tongue still alight from the whiskey. He gestured towards Grant, "Not if he wants to continue seeing this pretty face, aint that right Grant?"

The bartender just chuckled and rolled his eyes from down the counter where he was talking to other customers. Their hands were still on each other, and Trevor found that he really didn't want to pull away. Not one bit. In fact, he'd be perfectly fine getting much closer to the blond.

"Well," announced that blond, "You've successfully gotten me drunk, Belmont."

"Trevor," he corrected again. Why he had started doing it he couldn't remember but the way Alucard bent his tongue around his name was almost ethereal, and Trevor couldn't resist hearing it.

"Trevor," Alucard repeated again, oblivious to why the other man kept correcting him. "So I am going to call a car, and _you_ are absolutely not walking home."

"A car?" The Belmont hissed, "You just have cars waiting for you?"

Alucard rolled his eyes, face lit up from his phone screen as he made a call, "Please. They don't wait for us, we're just priority clients."

Trevor silently repeated the blonds words to just annoy him as he made his call, making him question if they could hear Alucard's eye roll through the phone. It was so damn loud after all.

The Belmont paused after the phone ended with a click, "How the fuck do you know my address?"

Alucard shrugged, "Memorized your resume."

Trevor recoiled a bit, "That's fucking creepy, you know that right?" 

The blond rolled his eyes, gathering his things, "I do it with all my business partners, don't take it personally."

The car ride was smooth, a dark van rolling up quietly before setting off. He felt his head swim and bubble as he tried to get in, reminding him what a good day it had been. There hands had unintentionally inched near each other in the car, and when Trevor noticed it made his brain whirl.

"You're not walking me up, I'm not helpless," growled the Belmont.

But Alucard was already up and out of the car with the most gentle breeze tugging at platinum hair. It gave Trevor the opportunity to roll his eyes with a loud groan, fiddling with his keys. There were only steps up to his apartment on the third floor, and Trevor had mastered the art of drunkenly stumbling up them. Alucard, however, had not. And the Belmont smirked to himself as the other man had to white knuckle the railing as they walked. Under harsh fluorescent lights he could certainly see the pink stain of alcohol on pale cheeks. 

"This is me, thank you for the very unneeded escort," Trevor grinned. 

Alucard's hands were in his coat pockets, the black such a harsh contrast from the white hallway, "Please, what if I lost my head contractor from tumbling down the stairs after my supervision. I'd never hear the end of it."

Trevor's hand was on the doorknob but he crowded into Alucard's personal space, where it smelled like gin and spices, "Oh is that your excuse. It wasn't because you wanted to send me off like a gentleman? Make it proper business?" mocked the Belmont teasingly.

Alucard locked his jaw, body swaying a little closer to Trevor's with a sharp glint in yellow eyes, "If you wanted me to be a gentleman you just had to ask, _Trevor."_

This time Trevor narrowed his eyes, the space between them thick, even as it shortened. It was like a challenge, who was going to move away first. Trevor wasn't one for losing. 

"Fine," he growled up close to Alucard it only had to be a whisper. "Please be a gentleman, and kiss me goodnight after you walked me home."

And like a true gentleman, Alucard did as asked. Kissing him right outside his door in those ugly florescent lights. But that didn't matter, because his eyes were closed and he was floating in the ether with soft lips on his. Trevor held the thinner man close, tugging on his collar. He found Alucard bending to his touch, and despite being taller, letting Trevor kiss down.

He bit a soft bottom lip for good measure, the taste of gin on his tongue and his body hot. Alucard was smiling, their foreheads knocked together, "There, you got your gentleman."

"Wouldn't mind getting much more of him," whispered Trevor, sending soft kisses along a sharp jaw.

Alucard bent to the touch, and Trevor just wanted to gather him up in his arms and keep him close. Till there wasn't air to breathe between them. The blond let out the quietest of happy sighs, "He wouldn't mind as well." He gently pushed Trevor away from his ear, a few fingers pressed right on his sternum, "On another day."

Trevor grinned, biting his cheek as such a beautiful man with red lips and blushed out cheeks. He wanted to fuck up that perfect hair and hear all the nasty words fall from such a poised mouth. "Another day then," sighed the Belmont. 

Alucard smiled, planting a soft kiss right by the Belmont's ear, "See you at work, _Trevor."_


End file.
